


Braided Hair, Yellow Flowers, and the Overwhelming Ideology that Gender is Bullshit

by C4t1l1n4



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is good with kids, Crowley is soft for kids, Gen, No Beta, like one (1) swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4
Summary: Self indulgent, Crowley is soft for kids crack fic inspired by long haired Crowley and the children who want to braid it.





	Braided Hair, Yellow Flowers, and the Overwhelming Ideology that Gender is Bullshit

Crowley decided many years ago, before Noah built the ark and the whole earth flooded, that gender was bullshit. He would tell you that he came up with this of his own volition, but of course, demons lie. He actually had help from a group of small children. He had been slinking among the crowd of a small town when he felt a tug on the back of his garment. He whirled around with a snarl on his face only to be met by three young girls, and his harsh words faltered, piling up at the front of his mouth as they came to an abrupt stop behind closed lips. 

The one who had tugged on his clothes squeaked out a “Can I braid your hair?” at the same time the oldest said “Don’t, it’s a man.” 

After a moment of silence, the third grabbed the littlest by the hand and started to drag her away. “We’re sorry for bothering you mister.” 

Crowley had a soft spot for children in his heart. If you asked, he’d tell you it’s because they’re so unguarded and easy to tempt, but of course, demons lie. He’s actually so fond of them because they bear a striking resemblance to himself. They ask questions. And so the odd request might’ve sent him reeling for a second, many people don’t even so much bother to look at him really, but he called after them before they got too far. 

“What kind of question is that?” And a little bit quieter. “Of course you can.” 

So the youngest pulled herself away from her sisters and skipped back over to him. “Are you sure? Martha says we should leave the men alone, even if they do have long and pretty hair.” 

“Gender is ssssss—stupid anyway.” Crowley decided then and there, but caught his curse word before it could do any damage. And not because he was around children, no, he had some other valid reason that he would dream up later to justify his actions. 

And so the little girl smiled back at her sisters and started to move away from the crowded town area to a field near by, and Crowley soon found himself settled among bright yellow flowers. The oldest one, who he had figured was the one named Martha, subsequently acted as the mother of the group and used her chiding tone to keep Crowley still. He pretended to suppress an eye roll but instead he was suppressing a smile as he fought to duck his head. Martha started the whole process by running her fingers through the long, silken strands of his hair to untangle the wind blown knots and divided it into three pieces. She guided the youngest, who through soft muttering and gentle prodding Crowley learned was kindly referred to as Becca. The third child of the group, who after wandering a bit too far for the mother hen’s liking, was harkened back to the group with a stiff shout of “Rachel!” and began picking the flowers closer by. 

Abruptly, as the pair had gotten about half way done with the braid (they had to start over many times) Rachel came running over with a bundle of picked flowers.

“Yellow!” She exclaimed, like it was some revelation, and shoved them into Crowley’s face, who took them out of her hand and sat there, holding them dumbly. 

“I believe she means to say that they quite well match your eyes.” Martha explained, as if she was used to interpreting her sisters lack of words. “It’s far too late to incorporate them into the braid, we’re almost finished you see,” Martha continued, turning her attention to Rachel as she came to see their handiwork “but we could use it to hold the braid closed?”

“Flower crown!” Becca piped up from her spot on Martha’s lap, holding the tail of the braid tightly as the flower was fastened around it. 

And so Crowley sat there a little while longer, until the youngest two knew how to properly loop the flowers together and a make shift crown, blooming with golden hues, sat neatly atop his head. 

“What do you think?” The younger ones pestered. 

“I’m sure it’s lovely.” Crowley replied while standing to his feet as a round about way to avoid giving an actual compliment. And after feeling like he had indulged them quite enough, he made his way out of the field, leaving the trio behind. “I have to meet a friend.” He called behind him, instead of answering their questions to where he was going. 

A smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face as soon as Crowley walked into the tavern where they were meeting for lunch. “Don’t.” Crowley growled, stopping any smug comments from the angel about “indulging the children again.” 

“I was just going to say that it looked very nice.” Came the placating reply. 

“Oh, shut up.” Crowley grumbled, taking his place at the table and reaching for a glass of something drink. 

But, well... if the flowers bloomed a little brighter at the praise, who am I to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I’ve written in literal months and my first GO fic so my characterization is probably off. Not canon-compliant because it’s set back before the flooding of the earth because I needed long haired Crowley but we’re gonna say they're already friends and not just mild acquaintances. Also, I’m just making up names and they probably don’t fit in with the time period but shhhhhhh...


End file.
